<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>who is the butler? by TribalGarnet (orphan_account)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525917">who is the butler?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TribalGarnet'>TribalGarnet (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Backstory, Butlers, Gen, Headcanon, Nobility, Vague, Victorian, as hell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:54:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TribalGarnet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A SAD TRUTH<br/>When you work for someone,<br/>there are always eyes on you.</p><p>There may not be any mistake, no blunders, a single mishap could throw you until the streets in an instant. And this man, as the butler of the household, couldn’t afford one misstep, as he was the example for all the servants that he directed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>who is the butler?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/579649">The Book Thief</a> by Markus Zusak.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His eyes had this sort of defeated look to them, a muted brown that peered past calico striped bangs to three young women as he bowed his head respectfully. His lips were pressed thin together, the skin bitten so often they were swollen and dry. His tongue occasionally darted out to sooth the cracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>A SAD TRUTH</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>When you work for someone,</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>there are always eyes on you.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>There may not be any mistake, no blunders, a single mishap could throw you until the streets in an instant. And this man, as the butler of the household, couldn’t afford one misstep, as he was the example for all the servants that he directed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope everything is to your liking, my ladies.” The man says, smiling despite the bitterness so obvious in his being. He straightens up and masks the defeat in his gaze, and then gracefully turns on his heel. Hands on the grip, the shuddering of a cart, and he wheels the rest of the teapot out of the room and down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>A NORMAL MORNING</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>He wakes up before the sun has risen.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>He pulls out the recipes and picks out the meals to be prepared.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>He has the maid set the table and prepares the morning tea.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>He wakes his master up and dresses him while discussing the day’s census.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, this is hypothetically, a normal morning. Despite all of his precautions and guidelines, somehow the cooks run around the kitchen like chickens without their heads, the maid shatters the expensive china, and so the butler wakes up even earlier to prepare breakfast and set the table and wake the master up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely, if the butler is doing all these jobs he is appreciated more?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>AN ANSWER TO THE PREVIOUS QUESTION</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>No.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>Perhaps if his master is forgiving,</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>but he is not.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The man seemingly doesn’t notice The Butler running around frantically keeping his life together. It’s as if his tie tightens itself. The disarray this noble’s life would go into if The Butler even so much as slept in for one peaceful extra hour. Still, he doesn’t notice it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m getting off track, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Butler strolls casually along the hall, admiring the view of the light filtering into the main hall from the stained glass windows, and he can’t help but wish he could enjoy it from the perspective of the man who owns the colours rather than the man who serves them.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>HOW WISHES WORK</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>From what I’ve seen, they occasionally come true.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>But just like a monkey’s paw, with terrible circumstances.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>As a butler, there are always eyes on you. That’s just the way things are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you’re seen idling, you’re berated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the carpet is pulled from under your feet by a clumsy maid and you both fall down the stairs, shatter the teapot and the finery, you’re seen, but you aren’t asked if you’re okay. In fact, you think that no one has noticed at all. You go about your day, anxiously but then gradually relaxed as you think that you may have gotten away with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until later that night when you’ve finished dressing your Master for bed that he tells you that you’re fired, along with the maid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was perhaps The Butler’s most ungraceful moment of his life. He was on his knees asking--no, begging for a second chance. His gloved hands clasped together, his eyes wide and almost tearful. The Master doesn’t relent, and he watches as The Butler leaves the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his final hour as the estate’s butler, he writes out a clear and concise list of how preparations for the next day should go, and what the new head butler should expect from his position. The other servants all wish him a sorrowful goodbye, and The Butler leaves with his head held high, despite his hopes so terribly low.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>HOW IS THIS DEVELOPMENT TAKEN?</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>Surprisingly well.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>It’s been ten years since he was last homeless.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, that was when he was ten, a child. It was easier to get by, because of course people pity orphan children. In fact that was the only way he landed his job in the manor in the first place. The Master’s mistress was so very swayed by such a small boy that she wanted to bring him in, and The Master would only allow it if he worked as a footboy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The work wasn’t bad. Plus, he had a bed to sleep in with a full belly every night. I’d say he was pretty satisfied with life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But here he was again. The streets of London in the 1800s were full of elegant dresses and upbeat chatter, and it was easy to stroll through at first without getting sneered at because a butler was somewhat respected, and those were the only clothes he owned.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>SO… WHERE DOES THE STORY GO FROM HERE?</b>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <b>Well, it wouldn’t be a compelling narrative if he</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>just died alone, unshowered, starved to death.</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>No, fate had different plans for him.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>His next hurdle to vault would be a chase. A hunt, the watch catching him out after hours and chasing him through the alleys of London while the owl cried. He was frantic, and out of breath, and lost--so very lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to crawl into a building that looked fairly abandoned, and ended up coming across a group of people, hunched over books. They all turned to stare at him, and he stared back with panic. He raised his finger to his lips, and all at once they heard the shouts of the watch and blew out the candle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Butler had come to know these people, and what they were studying… the powers, and rituals.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>WHO IS THE BUTLER?</b>
  <b><br/></b>

  <b>Why… isn’t it obvious?</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>It’s me, Jonah Magnus.</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>